The Forgotten Field

Rain poured down over the weathered ruins.

The streams soaked his pale ash-brown eyelashes before running across his bloodless cheekbones and tracing the °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° line of his jaw.

At first glance, it looked as though he were crying. Yet there was nothing to read in the man's frozen face. At most, one could barely discern the desolate, hollow shadow lingering there.

As though he could no longer bear the weight of the rain, his arms fell limply to his sides. A heavy sigh escaped between lips that were still struggling to steady their ragged breathing.

"Let's go back."

"..."

Talia merely looked up at him with vacant eyes.

Then a crack appeared in the face that had been as still as hardened wax.

"You... shouldn't stay here like this. You lost... blood..."

As though his thoughts refused to connect, he spoke in broken fragments.

"You lost... so much blood. So if your body gets cold..."

His voice faded beneath the intensifying roar of the rain.

Moving with the caution of someone approaching a frightened wild animal, the man slowly came closer before kneeling on one knee in front of her.

A white hand, the knuckles sharply defined, gently enclosed her dirt-covered hand. Faint warmth seeped into her icy skin.

Holding it between both of his hands, he carefully rubbed it before pressing it against the warmth of his own neck.

Talia suddenly remembered that, once before, he had done the very same thing for a pitiful little bird that had fallen into muddy water.

The sobs that had finally begun to subside surged up again.

"Let's go."

His arm wrapped around her frail back through the thin nightgown.

Talia twisted violently, trying to push him away.

She was terrified of this man who could lift her to the clouds simply by reaching out his hand.

She resented him for making her hope.

If she had remained at rock bottom all along, she never would have known the agony of falling.

She knew it was an unfair accusation.

Even so, she wanted to demand an answer.

Why didn't you leave me to rot beneath that mound of earth that day?

Why didn't you leave me abandoned in the shadows of the Imperial Palace?

Why did you make me dream of happiness?

"I don't want this anymore. Just leave me alone!"

As she convulsed and struggled, he wrapped both arms tightly around her body, preventing her from breaking free.

Overwhelmed by helplessness, Talia burst into tears.

A warm hand slipped into her rain-soaked hair and gently cradled the back of her ice-cold neck.

A voice as heavy and rough as forged metal fell over the top of her head.

"We have to go now."

Realizing that he intended to take her away even if he had to force her, Talia twisted her head toward the grave.

Before her eyes floated the image of the baby shivering beneath that cold mound of earth.

Once again, the cry of a newborn mingled with the sound of the rain.

She wanted nothing more than to gather the child into her arms and soothe it, and the knowledge that she could not made her wish she were dead.

Panting as though each breath would be her last, Talia eventually let her arms and legs fall limp.

The whole world slowly drowned beneath rain and tears.

She wanted to sink beneath them as well.

As her vision gradually faded into darkness, she prayed between broken sobs.

Please... let me sleep like this forever.

Let me escape this unbearable reality...

* * *

Carrying a waterskin filled with cold water, Tiuran climbed the stairs before stopping when she spotted Daren Dru Siorcan standing in one corner of the corridor.

Perhaps there had been some formal event, for the broad-shouldered man was dressed in an elaborate doublet tailored perfectly to his imposing frame, a finely engraved breastplate strapped over it, while he spoke with a young aide.

Noticing her awkwardly standing at the top of the stairs, he offered a perfunctory greeting.

"You've been working hard."

Tiuran bowed with a tense expression.

"What brings you here?"

"Ah, it's nothing important. I simply came to ask about Her Highness the Grand Duchess's condition."

The man gestured toward the bedroom door farther down the corridor with a sideways glance.

Setting the waterskin on the floor, Tiuran moistened her dry lips and carefully chose her words.

"Her fever finally broke around noon today. She has taken her medicine and is sleeping now."

"So the dangerous period has completely passed?"

Tiuran studied him with cautious eyes.

She was well aware that some of the retainers had begun questioning the Grand Duchess's ability to bear children. Disgusting as she found their heartlessness, more than anything she wished for Talia to suffer no further wounds.

For that reason, she answered with deliberate reassurance.

"Fortunately, Her Highness is gradually recovering. In a few months, she should be able to return to her former condition."

"It will take that long?"

The man knitted his thick brows deeply.

Tiuran barely restrained herself from frowning.

What exactly did this man think childbirth was?

Although the baby had been born prematurely, the stillborn child had been unusually large for seven months, and the Grand Duchess's pelvis had been narrower than that of an average woman.

For all practical purposes, it had been no different from a normal delivery.

On top of that, the bleeding had refused to stop, and she had nearly lost her life.

Of course recovery would require time.

Rather than explaining all of that in detail, Tiuran answered in a cold voice that bordered on a rebuke.

"This is an entirely normal pace of recovery. A woman's body is naturally more delicate and fragile than a man's."

"So what you're saying is that she is no longer in any danger?"

The man repeated the question somewhat impatiently.

After hesitating briefly, Tiuran nodded.

Only then did he release a relieved sigh, looking satisfied.

"Then there is no longer any reason for His Grace to remain constantly at her side."

Only then did Tiuran realize they had come because of the Grand Duke's prolonged absence.

Her face stiffened.

"My apologies, but simply because her physical wounds are healing does not mean her heart has recovered as well. Her Highness has lost the child she cherished. Right now... she needs her husband."

The somewhat presumptuous remark erased the expression from the man's face.

Tiuran instinctively tensed.

Daren Dru Siorcan was not known as an especially cruel man, but nobles could be infinitely merciless toward commoners.

Trying not to reveal her unease, she watched his reaction closely.

Though his face briefly darkened with displeasure, he soon explained in a calm voice.

"It may be unreasonable to expect someone of your station to understand the obligations nobles must bear. Still, I shall explain them myself.

"Before he is anyone's husband, Varkas Laedgo Siorcan is the ruler responsible for millions of people in the East. At his command, every soldier in the East moves, and hundreds of lords gather beneath his banner. If His Grace fails to fulfill those duties, the nobles will inevitably think this."

"..."

"'If that man does not fulfill his responsibilities as our ruler, why should we continue to serve him?'"

Rendered speechless, Tiuran lowered her head.

The man continued in an even voice.

"I am striving to protect His Grace's authority. If you, too, are loyal to House Siorcan, then tell our lord that Her Highness the Grand Duchess's health is no longer a cause for concern and that he need not worry any further."

"...I understand your meaning. Please forgive my thoughtless words."

As soon as she bowed respectfully, the man's mood seemed to soften, and he stepped aside.

Tiuran picked up the waterskin from the floor.

While carefully making her way down the corridor so that the water would not spill, the two men remained where they were, continuing their conversation.

Feeling Daren's gaze resting on her back, Tiuran quietly grasped the doorknob and eased it open.

She entered as silently as possible so as not to disturb the Grand Duchess's sleep.

The first thing she saw was the Grand Duke sitting against the headboard.

She had been about to tell him she had brought fresh water, but unconsciously stopped breathing.

Dressed only in a loose-fitting tunic, his disheveled hair brushed back from his face, he looked astonishingly young as he sat there at an angle.

Only then did Tiuran remember that he was merely a young man of twenty-four.

"Why are you standing there? Bring it here."

Without taking his eyes off the woman lying beside him, the man gently placed a hand against her forehead before quietly giving the instruction.

Startled, Tiuran slowly approached the bedside.

The young man never looked at her even once.

His gaze remained fixed entirely on his wife's face.

His profile appeared no less gaunt than the Grand Duchess's.

Come to think of it...

Had she ever actually seen this man asleep?

For several days she had been entering and leaving the Grand Duke's bedchamber day and night, yet she could not recall a single moment when she had seen his eyes closed.